Dear Nichole:

I can deeply relate to your fears of abandonment and being alone. Despite my mother being undependable as a source of emotional security, I remained dependent on her because there was no one else. Growing up in a tiny apartment with just the two of us, she was the only source of security I could hope for, even if she rarely provided it.

At some point, I grew very angry with her—for making my life revolve around her, for hurting me in countless ways. I longed for freedom from her, but as a helpless and dependent child, I doubted my ability to make it on my own. This created a strong push-and-pull dynamic: wanting to escape but fearing abandonment at the same time.

To protect myself from the pain of her behavior, I distanced myself emotionally as best I could. I suppressed empathy and love as a survival mechanism, because feeling those emotions fully—while enduring her blame, emotional volatility, and threats—was unbearable. Yet, deep down, the bond I had with her still instilled a fear of losing her entirely, whether I realized it or not.

I experienced a profound ambivalence, simultaneously holding anger, love, fear, and longing. My anger toward her and my desire to escape didn’t negate the fundamental bond I had as her child. Trying not to feel empathy or love was my way of protecting myself from further hurt, especially since those feelings were often met with shame, blame, or even threats of suicide or harm. Still, the fear of abandonment lingered beneath the surface, tied to the emotional vulnerability I worked so hard to suppress.

These mixed emotions—loving her but being angry, craving freedom but fearing abandonment—were overwhelming. The constant coexistence of love, anger, and fear left me emotionally confused and robbed me of the foundation needed to feel safe, take risks, and form my own identity. Instead, I remained stuck in that ambivalence and confusion.

A predictable caregiver teaches a child that their emotional world is manageable, building trust in both others and themselves. An unpredictable caregiver, on the other hand, teaches a child that emotions are unmanageable, fostering distrust and leading to emotional dysregulation—the hallmark of impulsivity and reactivity.

Like you, I took on the role of an emotional caretaker for my mother. I tried to fix or help her, not out of confidence, but as a survival instinct. It wasn’t about feeling capable—it was about trying to create some semblance of stability in a chaotic environment. Despite feeling weak and helpless, I felt compelled to take on this role. If I could make her better, maybe I could prevent things from getting worse. It gave me a sense of control, even if it was just an illusion.

I loved my mother deeply, though I spent much of my childhood convincing myself otherwise to shield myself from the pain of her struggles. She often blamed me for her unhappiness and threatened suicide, leaving me overwhelmed by empathy I couldn’t bear to feel. Suppressing my feelings made me believe I didn’t love her, but later in life, I came to realize that I did love her deeply—I was just consumed by anger and needed to protect myself.

Taking care of her wasn’t just about love; it felt like a duty. I believed that if I didn’t step into the role, no one else would. I hoped my efforts might make a difference, earn her acknowledgment, or bring me the support I so desperately needed. As a child, I thought I could fix her problems and make her happy, not understanding that I was carrying a burden far beyond my capacity. Far beyond any child’s capacity.

In many ways, my actions were about survival—suppressing empathy, stepping into the caretaker role, and trying to “fix” her were all ways I coped with the chaos. Even as I longed to be free from her, I also feared abandonment. She was a source of pain, but also familiarity, and losing her entirely would have meant facing an unknown I wasn’t ready for.

These conflicting feelings—love, anger, fear, and longing—were incredibly complex and shaped how I related to her and the world around me. Processing these dynamics over time has helped me understand myself better and has given me tools to heal.

You asked me how I am. Well, these days, I am finding peace in embracing empathy for others. It feels liberating to let go of suppressing empathy, to care for people, and to build meaningful connections.

Does any part of this resonate with you?

anita